thrown onto the lawn.
Wall hangings ensued–mirror,
sconces, a knock-off Seurat
in shards, frame & all.
A mahogany coffee
table joined the heap,
followed by lamps & matching
blue wing chairs that fairly flew
out the door. The couch
barely budged, but provided
time for reflection
about what to fill it with,
the emptiness still inside.
[+]
Matt Morris has published in various magazines
& anthologies. He lives on what remains of a f
arm on the side of a hill in the middle
of nowhere with his schnauzer Barkley.
